


The Child I Never Was

by Solar_Sylvilagus



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Drabble, Gen, Hollow's bummed they never got to be a child, Nightmares, Sort Of, That's it, They managed to save Hallownest w/o anyone dying au I guess, and they feel bad for being jealous, but Ghost kinda does now that everything's over, i'm still never beta-reading anything i write, it's 6 a.m and this has been in my wip folder for over a year, that's all this is, what do u want from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:33:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22449487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solar_Sylvilagus/pseuds/Solar_Sylvilagus
Summary: Envy was bad, even in those who were supposed to feel. They did not envy Ghost. They did not envy the colorful strip of cloth wrapped around their hand, with it's cheerful caricature of a grub on it. They did not envy the soft attention shown to them. They did not.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 78





	The Child I Never Was

**Author's Note:**

> Hollow Knight's themes of how shoving too big burdens on children/growing up too fast will fuck you up has ME fucked up.

Wet, hot heat and the stench of sickness. Through the cocoon of chains, void dripped, the remnants of an arm lost to the pustules and blazing fever. No mind to think, no will to break, but a fever to cloud and weaken all the same. The crack in it's mask throbbed, and sometimes a track of orange would drip from it. And, sometimes, knowing it was well and truly alone, it would shake it's head to dislodge the burning droplets, only to have guilt set in as it failed to uphold it's duty with silence and dignity. And in those moments, the pain in their skull would pulse, the pressure behind their mask making it feel as though it'd finally split, until they crammed away the emotions, silencing the Radiance's whispers for a time.

And though they tried to bite it back, to choke down her furious cries, as the seals gave way, she tore through with all the fury she possessed and amplified by their own strife. The very thing that had given her a foothold.

Failure.

As their sibling darted around, breaking the chains, the wet-rot-sick-heat burned, blazed, hurthurthurt DAWN SHALL BREAK. LET ME BE FREE--

* * *

Cold metal chains melted away into soft warm sheets, and no matter how tightly they were tangled around them, freedom was easily found. There was a sharp bit of a cloak pin poking the crack in their mask, smoothed by time and careful tending, but no less sensitive. Still, the pointy head of the miniature Stag was grounding. It had been a gift. Iselda had proudly attached it to their cloak after seeing the way they tenderly scratched the chin of a newly hatched Stag. And under the shame of being seen so blatantly showing emotion, the shame of feeling delighted at the gift, at insisting they only wore it because they saw no reason to take it off, they loved it. Beady eyes and sharp bits and tiny annoying clasp. But it was their's.

And so they grasped it between their thumb and pointer finger and worried it between them, rubbing over the slightly raised eyed and digging the sharp points into the softer joints of their finger. Staring at the ceiling and fidgeting like a child. Unable to sleep but refusing to get out of bed. After all, it was time to sleep. They should be asleep. They had been wished a good night, and it was expected that they would sleep well and be refreshed in the morning.

There was a tiny jolt of pain as the pin slipped, going just the wrong side of painful and leaving an indent in the soft flesh under their chitin. No void dripped out, but they pressed it with their thumb anyway, the way Elderbug did when Ghost's still young armor plating failed them, until the sluggish drip would stop. Even though they could just Focus. It would have been much less trouble.

Envy was bad, even in those who were supposed to feel. They did not envy Ghost. They did not envy the colorful strip of cloth wrapped around their hand, with it's cheerful caricature of a grub on it. They did not envy the soft attention shown to them. They did not.

They did not creep out of their bed, ducking to get their horns through the doorway and carefully stepping over the creaky board. They did not shuffle into the washroom. They did not pull open the cabinet and pick out a roll of cloth with smiling stags on it. They did not clumsily wrap it around the indent in their finger, using far too much and nearly throwing it down in frustration as they struggled with it.

They did, however, fall back to sleep, staring at the smiling eyes of a cloth stag.


End file.
